


Psychopath

by TheAlphaFox



Series: Monologues Of 221B [2]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Boredom, Dark Comedy, Evil, Gen, I Found This Really Funny But I Doubt Anyone Else Will, Internal Monologue, It's Hard and Nobody Understands, Jim has Issues, Madness, Moriarty Is A Dick, Moriarty is Alive, POV Jim Moriarty, Plotting, Psychopathology & Sociopathy, The Author Regrets Nothing, genius, planning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-27
Updated: 2016-02-27
Packaged: 2018-05-23 14:56:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 654
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6120031
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheAlphaFox/pseuds/TheAlphaFox
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>My name is James Moriarty.</p><p>Jim to you.</p><p>And I am BORED.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Psychopath

**Author's Note:**

> Many thanks to Charlotte for letting me make this into a series- I hope you like this one! Xxx 
> 
> And to the rest of you, cubs, I hope this lives up to the title! Rest assured, the author is probably just mental enough to carry it off :') xx

They used to call me a psychopath, the greatest criminal of our age. Emphasis on the past tense.

Ugh.

Being dead is so, so boring. Not that I ever really was. Dead, I mean.

Clever, yes.  
Dashing, certainly.  
Mad, most probably. 

On a slab? Briefly. But thanks to my own brilliance (even if I do say so myself), I was still breathing and indeed smiling when I got up and sauntered out of the morgue.

Sadly, keeping up the pretence means that there can be no interesting criminal activity, no contact with my network, not even the odd sabotage or heist just for something to do! Nobody has written an article about me in ages, I don't notice fearful chatter about my exploits. My reputation is fading.

Boring. Mind-numbing. Frustrating.

Sherlock- bless his little deerstalker- is probably just as disillusioned as I am with this whole thing. His theatrical genius of a nemesis gone, as far as he knows; what will the poor thing do now? 

These four walls haven't changed ever since I first walked into the flat that's become my self inflicted prison. It's a penthouse (obviously, I'm not an ordinary little person), well stocked and architecturally acceptable. On the other hand, considering every aspect of the scenario, there is only so long that any space can contain the sheer mind that is my own. 

I can't leave, for fear of being recognised. I can't organise anything to happen right now, because I'm still "deceased". This had better be worth it. Although... it was my idea, and although I know I'd be sublime, I don't much fancy making myself into shoes.

On another note, I've just noticed that this sofa is considerably less comfortable now I've slashed my initials into the cushions (what can I say, I was bored). 

Never mind. 

I just lay back and listen to my head spin, as I always do, ignoring the scraps of torn leather digging into my spine through my Westwood suit jacket. 

Closing my eyes these days, I hear them over the cacophony of my brain, the poor morons. Scurrying below my windows like mice running for the bait in the mousetrap. Off on their morning commute, walking some flea-ridden mutt, going to visit a mistress, or (often as a result, which is amusing) a divorce lawyer. 

Unfortunate mice. They are unaware that a sly cat is just waiting for them to nip at what they desire, to trigger the spring and sacrifice themselves in the pursuit of their wishes. Oh, let have their pretty little necks snapped for their troubles! This clever feline can collect the spoils, and never once have his paws pinched. 

It's a pathetic display, honestly. Or with as much honesty as I can be bothered to muster, which isn't particularly notable. As far as synonyms go, I could say 'truly'- however, I've never been very true either. Consulting criminals don't tend to be good at that kind of thing.

Regardless, I really do think these people NEED me, even just to liven things up a bit. London is a quiet city at the moment, the streets are becoming awfully safe. Idle wondering speculates that Scotland Yard has found something new to fail at, now that the crime rates are dropping.

Ah, well. Not long to go now. It pains me to think about another second of this tedium, but I can wait for my triumphant return for a little while longer. Of course I can! I'm Jim Moriarty. I can do anything, go anywhere, be anyone. 

I swear it, here and now. May this cup of coffee be my witness, when I finally emerge from these months of confinement and careful planning- I'm going to have so much FUN. Sherlock will thank me for the distraction, I'm sure. After all, I made good on my promise. I owed him a fall.

Now, I think he owes me a rematch.

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoyed that! Please leave a comment and let me know what you thought- I'm gradually working my way through Sherlock's characters, so there's plenty more coming soon!
> 
> Stay safe, and enjoy yourselves xx :)


End file.
